Chapter Seven
Ro
Licking my lips, I curse the lack of water.
We’re down to a final propane can and eating food cold to conserve power.
We’re using the majority to boil water since the pump clogged a few days prior.
I’m starting to worry as the water remains high and the area shows no signs of life beyond us and the critters.
We have no access to a boat or a way to call for help. I’ve checked for service as frequently as I dare, but there’s been no luck. We’ve gotten by so far, boiling enough to drink, but it’s slowly draining our strength.
Shading my eyes, I scan the landscape through the kitchen window, praying for a sign of someone else. Silence greets me. Turning away, I walk to the couch.
“Ro?” Betti enters the room, rubbing her eyes. “Did the water go down?”
“A little.” A few inches count, right?
“When do you think we’re going to leave?” She scratches her neck.
“I don’t know, kiddo.”
She licks her lips, making me painfully aware of my thirst. Brain fog is starting to set in, and I have yet to come up with a fix.
The water after a hurricane is dangerous for more reasons than gators.
Bacteria, hidden debris, and who knows what else make it a field of invisible land mines.
Trying to swim out has to be a last resort.
Especially when we don’t know where the next solid land mass is located.
But soon I won’t have the strength to even try.
Should I leave her while I explore? No. If anything happens to me, she’ll be stranded alone with no one aware of her location. Lowering my head, I turn and shuffle back to the couch. Plopping down, I close my heavy lids. “Let me think a minute,” I mutter, drifting off.
“Ro?” Betti’s voice sounds wrong.
Struggling against the drugging sleep and heavy limbs that keep me plastered onto the couch cushions, I swim up to consciousness. “Hmm.” Cracking my eyes open, I take in her anxiety-ridden face hovering over mine.
Kneeling on the couch beside me, she presses the back of her hand to my forehead. “Look at me.”
“I am,” I grumble. Talking is taking more energy than I have right now.
“You’re scaring me.”
“Just tired,” I mumble.
“I need you to sit up. Someone’s coming.”
Has the water level gone down? How long was I sleeping? Grunting, I slowly ease my aching body upright and force myself to focus on the world outside. A low hum greets me. I strain to hear better.
“Is that an airboat?” I whisper, afraid to hope.
“I think so.”
Gripping the arm of the couch, I push off the floor to stand. I sway before quickly correcting my balance.
“Rowan,” Betti cries out.
“It’s okay, I just got up a little too fast.” I hold out a hand.
We both know it’s more than that. Shakily, I walk toward the window, feeling about seventy. Every step takes effort. My current state alarms me. Reaching out, I use the wall to keep me upright. Looking out the window, I gasp.
“Look.” I point to the airboat in the distance, steered by a familiar blonde with large headphones.
“T-Landry?” I mumble, pressing my face against the glass.
How would he know to come here? The closer they get, the more details I glean.
Gasping, my knees give way. I hit the wooden floor hard.
My ears ring and my vision swims in front of me.
I recognize the man in the white hat. It’s the facial structure I still see in my dreams.
Heart racing, I struggle to calm my breathing. I can’t be imagining it, Betti sees him too.
“Ro.” Betti kneels beside me, resting a hand on my back.
“He came.” I stare at the man I never thought I’d see again.
My heart races, and I lick my cracked lips.
Despite all the bad blood between us, he’d rallied a rescue party and searched for me.
Tears burn my dry eyes, and my throat clogs.
Remnants of that love we shared must remain somewhere for him to do this.
“Who?” she whispers, rubbing my back.
“Gambit,” I whisper.
“Oh.” Her mouth forms a circle. “Stay here.” She presses down on my shoulders, propping me against the wall as the room spins. She runs across the room, opening a window and sticking her upper body out. “Hey!” she yells, waving wildly.
Time distorts as I drift through levels of awareness. Is this actually a fever dream? Did I get sick? What the hell would Gambit be doing in Louisiana, looking for me with his cousins? We haven’t spoken since that day.
“Rowan.” The silken baritone with a thick Cajun accent is unmistakable. Wait, no Betti saw him too before.
Exhaling, I breathe his name. “Benoit.”
“Dat’s right. Now open those pretty brown eyes and take a sip of water for me.” I close my eyes tighter, afraid of what I’ll see if I comply.
Cracking my lids, I fall into the concerned depths of his warm brown gaze. “You’re really here.”
“I will always come for you when you need me.” He runs his thumb up and down my cheekbone. My body tingles. I curse the visceral response he’s always evoked effortlessly. “You scared the hell out of all of us with your disappearing act.” He presses the rim of a bottle to my parched lips.
I swallow down the cool water, moaning as it lubricates the scorched earth of my throat.
“Easy, cher. Gonna make yourself sick if you drink too much too fast.”
Slowing my intake, I feel my energy trickling in. Blinking, I focus on the man crouched on his haunches in front of me.
“There you are,” he rasps.
“You’re really here? I’m not hallucinating or dreaming?”
“I am. Come on, let’s get you out of here.” Placing his hands under my legs, he lifts me as if I weigh nothing.
“What are you doing? I can walk.” I push at his chest half-heartedly. I don’t have the energy to do much more.
“Let’s not test that theory just yet.”
After all these years, he’s here, bantering with me like we never missed a beat.
A wave of exhaustion silences me. If I’m in hell, I’ll take these moments of peace with the person I loved the most and wronged in the worst possible way.
Slumped against his solid, warm frame, I peer over at Betti, who is being helped from the outside by T-Landry and Guidry.
I thank the house for sheltering us when we needed it most.
“I fucked up, Benoit. I killed my Pa.” I struggle to push the words out, tripping over my heavy tongue.
“Way I heard it, he’s missing. And I might’ve seen him floating in the flood waters that breached the house.”
“No. It's my fault he wound up like that. If they look close enough, they’re going to find blunt force trauma. What kind of monster does that make me?”
“You’re going to tell me everything, and no one here is going to bat an eye. What did I always teach you, huh?”
“If it’s me or them. Always choose me.”
“Damn straight.”
“Why are you being so nice. I don’t deserve any of this.
” Raising a shaking hand, I cup his cheek.
He’s really here. The years have sharpened his jawline, broadened his shoulders, and added laugh lines and crow's feet. He kept his good humor. The sun has always agreed with the olive skin that tans instead of burns. An oxymoron considering he’s a redhead with the last name Le Blanche.
An eternal jester, the Cajun has a million different smiles.
Some reach his eyes, and others precede your final breath.
I was never blind to the danger that surrounds him like an electric aura.
Unlike his father, he chose to live on the other side of the law.
Like Robin Hood, he always made sure the neediest around him were taken care of.
We watch out for each other out here in a way few understand.
“As much as I dreamed about this moment. I’m still not ready.”
He frowns. “Why would you—”
We step out of the house, walk down the few steps, and I see the fan boat waiting, and everything I’ve avoided to keep my sister and me safe explodes.
“I’m a fucking murderer.” Breaking down, I babble like a baby learning to talk. How much longer will I have my freedom?
Chapter Eight
Gambit
I struggle to process the words tumbling out of her mouth in a slurred slop of fear, urgency, and angst. Her body shakes as she clutches my shirt like a lifeline.
The sunken eyes and cracked lips frighten me.
She’s not well. Whatever happened in that house sent her on a downward spiral.
Seeing Betti limp away between Guidry and T-Landry, I know Rowan took the brunt of the hardships onto herself.
Stubborn as shit, just like always.
“Calm down for me, we’re going to figure this out.”
“I killed him. They’re going to lock me away. Then what happens to Betti?” Her raspy voice rushes out in a panic.
Ice flows in my veins. I hadn’t misheard her. I glance at Guidry and find him looking at her, shocked.
“Gator gonna take care of dat man. I got his number, petite. You don waste another minute worrying bout that.” The darkness in T-Landry’s voice is shocking.
“But I deserve—”
“To finally be free. All of us have eyes,” Guid adds.
Melding into me, she collapses into herself, crying so hard, her entire body quakes. I pull her closer. She didn’t deserve this. I think of the man I know is floating in his living room and wish I could bring him back and kill him slowly. I suppress the questions I want to bombard her with.
She’s clearly been through hell and back and is hanging on by a thread.
Sitting down on the airboat, I get her situated in my lap.
Her current state threw all my plans out of the window.
T-Landry provides us both with headphones for ear protection and starts up the boat.
How long has he been hitting them? Was he doing it back then?
Did he threaten her? Why wouldn’t she come to me? How much does it change things?